


you're not moving (you can't be dead)

by skittykitty



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Assisted Suicide, Edelwood Trees, Gen, Heavy Angst, Mental Instability, References to Depression, Sad Ending, Sad Wirt, Suicidal Thoughts, i hope to never look at this fic ever again after posting this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 02:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18085670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/pseuds/skittykitty
Summary: He freezes in the snow as he loses feeling in his hands he stops. He gives up. And the roots overtake his body.But he doesn't care.Or, Greg doesn't sacrifice himself for Wirt.





	you're not moving (you can't be dead)

Branches blew past the brothers, pointing them forwards. Hands grabbed at them, pulling, pushing, _forcing_ them towards an unknown destination.

Wirt had no choice but to follow the directions given to him. Greg foolishly followed him, trusting him to know how to get them home.

God. He didn’t even know where home was let alone how to get there. He was a disappointment. When his brother realized that he couldn’t actually do anything worthwhile.

Greg would be safer without Wirt.

Wirt was just a bother.

_(Tree roots wrapped around his chest.)_

* * *

 

Sticks, the remains of dead trees _(would he be burned after he died? He hoped so, he’d finally be useful for something),_ burned in the Woodsman’s home. He was putting the useless to use.

The Woodsman was doing the best he could.

Better than anyone else was doing.

* * *

 

The school teacher… she was depressed. She wasn’t doing anything to help herself, she was just wallowing in self-pity.

She was the kind of person Wirt could never respect.

She was exactly like Wirt.

He’d talk about his problems, rant about them to anyone, but never do a thing to help himself.

Greg was so… _bright_ compared to Wirt.

Everyone loved him.

_(Roots snakes inside his ribs, hugging his heart.)_

* * *

 

The villagers believed him to be a “pilgrim”. To be someone worthwhile—and wow. That was just… _wow._

They loved the idea of him; the idea of a pilgrim.

He loved the idea too.

Only he knew that he wasn’t the Pilgrim. The Pilgrim was someone open-minded, someone who was open to any possibility.

He wasn’t the Pilgrim.

Greg was.

_(He choked on leaves. He was having difficulty breathing. It didn’t matter.)_

* * *

 

Snow whirled around him, freezing his skin.

_God. He was so tired._

He would only close them for a moment, then he’d check on Greg.

* * *

 

Greg didn’t know what to do. His brother wasn’t breathing, his skin was too pale.

Was he dead?

His eyes were closed, he knew eyes had a certain look when dead.

If he didn’t see his eyes, he was still alive.

* * *

 

Wirt woke up.

He tried to flex his fingers, but nothing moved. His legs didn’t move either.

Maybe he just had a bad case of hypothermia?

Yes. That had to be it.

He tried to look down at the damage, but he couldn’t do that either.

 _“... Wirt.”_ The smooth voice was unlike any he had heard previously. _“Wirt, just give up. You don’t matter.”_

He was right, of course. He didn’t matter. He never had.

He let go.

* * *

 

Greg woke up alone in a hospital room.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so sorry its not long and not sorry for the angst. you saw the tags.


End file.
